


Psychoanalysis With The Devil

by evilstoryteller



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Crushes, Falling In Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Monologue, Psychoanalysis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-17 13:13:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14832932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilstoryteller/pseuds/evilstoryteller
Summary: Keith is having trouble dealing with his feelings, so he decides to talk about them.





	1. June 2nd, 2018

**Author's Note:**

> May be based on yesterday's real events. Or not. You can't make me say it.

“So... Yesterday I went to a party and met someone… I mean, I’ve seen him before, thought he was cute, but just that, but yesterday I’ve _met_ him, you know. We chatted a little one on one, but mostly as a group – there were like, fifteen of us – so there wasn’t much room for small talk, just big, group talk. But I watched him, I tried not to stare too much, but I wanted to look at him, at his smile. It’s a sort of stubborn smile, one that doesn’t leave his face, it’s always there, at the corner of his lips, kinda shy, very cute. And I wanted to steal as many looks as I could, cause, well, I don’t know if there’s an explanation better than _I wanted to_ , so I did, I tried to catch him when he was talking, and… Somehow I feel like he was doing the same, sometimes? In a lot of moments, when I batted an eye at him, I saw him avert his own eyes, I saw him flinch and turn his face away…

“It’s kind of wishful thinking, I guess. Did he really look at me as much as I looked at him? Or was he just being himself, looking here and there, and I just happened to catch him looking at me because I looked at him so much I was bound to? And what I saw in his eyes, in his swift stares, was that really… Something? I mean, was it the same interest that I have? You could say ‘Oh, maybe you had something on your face, like parsley on your teeth’, yeah, I thought of that myself a few hundred times, so I checked and no, my face was fine. But that’s what bothers me so much about this, you see? I’m on that place, I’m far away, looking, wondering, expecting… That’s not me. Not me.

“My friends advised me to follow him on social media, like his pictures, comment on them, even call him on a chat. I don’t like that, this passive aggressive way of making yourself noticeable. It doesn’t work, it’s not me. Actually, I don’t think it is anyone, which is why it doesn’t work. We don’t learn anything about a person by learning they hearted our pictures on Instagram, except that, well, they hearted our pictures on Instagram. That’s not much. No, that’s nothing. And it bothers me precisely because of that. If I want people to like me, I have to show them who I am, what I like, what I do, you know? I want them to see me living my life, doing my thing, being myself. And yeah, you might say I could ‘talk to him on facebook’ or something, that could show a little more _me_ than just quietly watching him do stuff while I lovingly like it from a safe distance, but how could I do that? There is no real reason between us two to start a conversation yet, except I want to. But that doesn’t hold up as one might think. I believe that people finding this, this reason to talk to each other, that this is how things really start off. After that, you just be yourself and let it be known. If they like what they learn, great, let’s get along; if they don’t like it, then well, tough, nobody has to. I’m good a dealing with that. I’m good at being myself and at dealing with what happens when that isn’t enough. Which is why I think when it comes to relationships I’m more of an _aggressive aggressive_ kind of person.

“You see how that whole situation is upsetting me, then? Yeah, I don’t like being in this position of someone who can’t _act_ . Or at least act meaningfully. It forces me to be passive, to wait, to hope, to expect. Makes me project things. I keep wondering how things will go when they happen, and then after that, and then after, and after, and after… But I’m not the _admiring from afar, wishing we would eventually adopt a dog together_ kind of person. I would be more comfortable saying to someone’s face: ‘Hey, you and me, adopting that dog, what do you think?’ And I know why it bothers me so much. It always feels like setting up for disappointment, it’s like having a bunch of free time and deciding to spend it building a house of cards. You pay attention to every detail, place each card with so much care and thought, you forget to breathe, cause if you remember to, it crumbles. And that’s is the ultimate end of it all, because you can’t live without breathing, you can’t live without reality, so in the end of the day, all of that daydreaming is bound to be crushed and pile up in front of you in the oh so alluring form of disappointment. You know what’s another way of putting all this? Damn, I hate to say these words:

“It feels like I’m falling in love.

“The stupid chemicals. I feel that tingly feel in my stomach, the anxiety, the need to think and talk about the person. I feel stupid. That’s what I hate most of all. I feel out of control and stupid, dumb, like I’m a teenager and I don’t know how to deal with my own feelings and needs. It overwhelms me all the time. Not that I have felt like this a lot. Actually it was only once before, and in the spirit of experiencing things, I let it take over me. I tried to live in the moment back then, which I’ll always regret and never do again. At least not when I’m like this. Now I have you. I can throw everything up on you and hope to make some sense of it all. It’s not that I don’t want to experience falling in love again, it’s just… I’d appreciate the ride a little more if I could just be… Cool about it. But instead I’m like this. I can’t help but think I’m dumb. Do you realize last night I spent the entire ride back home wondering about how it would be like to have a relationship with him? Can you believe it? Cause I can’t. I gave myself some credit cause I had a lot of wine, but then this morning I woke up with goddamn butterflies in my stomach and went to check my phone for something, and I saw all the messages and notifications, checked them all, but the goddamn butterflies were still having a party in me and I didn’t know really why. Until I realized. I was looking for him. I wanted to have a message or notification about him on my phone.

“I didn’t, though. And it crushed me – is that why we call it a crush? Anyway. Looking at my phone and not seeing a sign of him hurt me a little. How ridiculous is that? Our phones are a good metaphor for our lives, usually what we do and who we do it with are there, so it’s a little proof of what makes up our day-to-day. This means I wanted him on my life, I wanted him on my day-to-day. It hurt me that this guy I only met last night isn’t a part of my life. How crazy is that?

“Yeah, I am in love, it seems. No denying it. I’ve learned denial only makes it harder, it’s only another nice layer of illusion. I’ll admit it then. I’m kind of in love with Lance. A guy I barely know. I’ve met him yesterday. Shit. What do I do? I know you won’t tell me… So, what’s this gonna cost?”

Keith sighed and waited for a while.

“It’ll all cost you only how much you’re willing to pay,” said the psychoanalyst.


	2. June 5th, 2018

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith is back to face the Devil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I had to update this, even though the plan was for a oneshot thing. I might keep adding chapters, if things keep forcing me to write them.

“Last Sunday I had a date. Yeah… It wasn’t bad, but it also wasn't good. And no, it was not with _him_. I wish it had been, of course. In fact, I wished it so much that it was a recurrent thought during the entire date. I would look at his face, you know, my date’s face, and think, damn, you’re so cute, so funny, so cuddly – it was cold, so the cuddly part was actually tested, – but I have no interest in you whatsoever. Not even physical. And the sad part about this is that a few weeks ago I was sexting with this guy and hoping to get alone with him as soon as I could, but then I had to go to that party and fall in love with a guy I barely saw once. Great. Just my luck. And yours. Cause now you gotta listen to me complain about this until it finally meet its doom.

“Anyway. I wanted to talk about what I figured out during this date while the guy was saying something about Katy Perry. Or Lady Gaga. Some pop singer. But the point is I realized that I am completely shut down about other people or even the prospect of other people. That is to say, I had no interest in sex with him, even though just a week ago I did, and I also could not see the possibility of any kind of emotional connection happening. We both know the latter isn’t really one of my most reasonable expectations when I’m with anyone, but the former is. It’s simple, it’s physical, it’s a body function, I think. I mean, I’m horny, I could go over him, or under, depending on the mood, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t even want to kiss him. I did though, I had to be sure... I didn’t enjoy it at all. I think I should have canceled the date, the poor guy has nothing to do with my issues, right? But I also thought the same thing when I considered canceling: Hey, he has nothing to do with my issues, I won’t take this out on him, we set this date a week ago after all, I’m going. Well, in the end it seems he ended up paying some kind of price. I still haven’t heard back from him, so...

“I just can’t get my head around this. Why does it affect me so much? i don’t know if by _this_ I mean falling in love or Lance himself, but it works either way. You know when you are at home, kinda bored, with nothing important to do, and you decide to watch TV and eat popcorn? Yeah, we all do that, and it’s okay. But what about a guy that is in that same scenario, but instead of bored he decides to make popcorn and see a movie because he can’t stop thinking about a person he _only fucking talked to once in his life?_ This is ridiculous. I already started living my life for him, somehow. I’m so pissed at him. I mean, not at him… I’m pissed at myself for feeling like this. Being pissed at him would just be a fun way to trick myself into believing he’s actually in my life… And I’m already enraged at other illusions to have time and energy for another one.

“Well, to sum up, I’m very anxious. And I know I’m gonna sound like a broken record, but here’s the thing.

“The inertia of it all is killing me. The only thing I can do is wait for us to meet again, wait for luck to strike, for anything to happen and make so that we finally cross paths once more. I can’t do this. I want to go to him and talk about something. So much so that I actually friended him on Facebook. He accepted the request in the same hour. Hour, not day. Get it? Yeah, because I obviously am reading into this. But that was all that happened. That and a few minutes of me scrolling through his timeline to desperately find a reason to… I don’t even know what. Anyway. He has very cute pictures that I found the self control not to like. But I digress. We didn’t talk, I didn’t message him. I still don’t have a reason, you know. And don’t come at me with that _you want to talk to him, that’s reason enough_ crap. That’s no reason. How would the conversation even go? _Hi, how are you, I came to talk to you about me wanting to talk to you._ Wanting to talk to someone is not a subject, it’s just a disposition, a mood, a willingness, I’m not sure how to put it. My friends, and you, for that matter, are mistaking having a reason to talk to someone with having the means to talk to someone. Being connected on a chat is just a means, not a reason. That’s the ultimate difference between being Facebook friends, and being just _friends_. It’s different when we run into someone on the street or the grocery store because it’s rude not to say a few words, but when it’s a phone number or online chat it’s not like that.

“But that all circles back to the sex thing. The physical desires and all. They all died. Rest in peace sex life. And no, it’s not only about other people, last Sunday’s date is not alone and not at fault, the poor bastard. I’m not interested in sex even with _him_. With Lance, I mean. I just want to spend time with him, know him better. I wanna learn what kind of person he is, what he likes, what he does everyday. Just so you can have an idea, I can’t wait to find something about him that I don’t like, because that’s one of the best signs of being part of someone’s life. You share your time with someone enough to learn their flaws, and then you decide if it’s worth your while to stay around them, to stay their friend despite that. I can’t wait to have that. Even though nothing guarantees I ever will. So I guess I’m still on the business of having expectations.

“You know what else is happening? I’m conscious I’ve been talking about having this crush with as many people as I can. I mean, not anyone, not any random, no, I’m not that big on oversharing, but with as many of my friends that I know I can trust, which is also not like me at all. To me this is a very vulnerable state, and one I make fun of all the time, so recognizing I’m completely into it and yapping about it to a lot of people wouldn’t be really my first move. And yet it is. At some point I thought of it as some sort of personal growth, that I now feel comfortable talking about my most private feelings with a lot of people. Sounds good, right? Yeah, well, sounds _suspicious_ . So I dug in a little deeper and ventured the possibility that I am just bragging. You know, advertising. Telling everyone you are in love, you have a crush, it’s interesting, it’s exciting, right? But that’s not me at all. I mean, I brag, I do, a lot, but about this? No. I wouldn’t be bragging about how I scan every face on the street hoping I can see him, run into him, finally find that reason to strike a conversation that will ultimately culminate on our wedding. I’m not proud of this, as you might remember, I’m actually pissed. So, there’s the third option, and, in my opinion, the winner: I’m telling as many people as I can in the secret hopes that this will reach him somehow. It’s me calling upon the magic powers of good old gossip. _Hey, did you know Keith has a crush on you?_ This sounds like the best option of all, it’s the way I subconsciously found to act, to move, to do something, and now that I realize this is what I’m doing, I can either feel ashamed or really roll up my sleeves and get it done. But then what’s the difference between this and just calling him for an awkward chat that will just make me come off as creepy? So back to square one: feeling ashamed, stupid, out of control.

“It all scares me. I thought I was heartbroken at myself for not being able to control my feelings, to be cool and reasonable about this, but that’s just bullshit. It’s just me not calling the thing by its name.

“I’m afraid of rejection like anyone else.

“I’m afraid that eventually, after this whole embarrassing ordeal I constantly monologue about is over, I’ll get to meet him again, get to talk and confess it all to him, and he will just say _no_ . I’m not immune to rejection. The feeling, not the actual act of rejecting or being rejected. But I clearly used to think I was, because my way of doing things, and my way of thinking, too, spoiled me in believing so. I usually don’t want anything or anyone, but when I do, I go in already set up for disappointment, whatever comes out of it is a bonus. But that makes me think there are _levels_ of wanting. Usually my heart doesn’t break because I lose interest first or understand why things have to end, and then it’s fine, it’s life, but this… It’s confusing… I’m going in _wanting_ in a way I’m not used to, in a way that losing sounds like a nightmare, not part of life. It feels like… Like I shelter myself from real, genuine interest, like I cushion myself with disinterest so when it all falls apart, there is something to break the fall, to ensure me I don’t get hurt. And suddenly I get that I’m so into him, there is no room for cushions. I can only close my eyes and let myself freefall. And hope that if I ever meet the ground, I’ll survive… Anyway, I think it’s over…”

Keith sighed, looking at his watch.

“I think it’s only beginning,” said the psychoanalyst.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is enjoyable somehow. Things keep developing in the most boring ways. It's all internal. Poor Keith...


	3. June 15th, 2018

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith is in trouble and the Devil does not help much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am again. Forgive me for the very confusing update, this is how things came out and I believe the messiness of it all kinda means something important, so I cleaned only what seemed to be completely unreadable, and left the rest as it came out.

“I’ve been feeling anxious.

“I’ve been a little scared and—why am I like this. No. I’m scared. No little. It’s fear, and I don’t know what it is or either I know, but I don’t like the options. It’s hard to get into the subject all at once. I don’t know where to begin. So I guess I’ll work around it until I get there, somehow. Let’s hope this works.

“Lately I’ve been having dreams. Weird, confusing dreams. First, I gotta say, I don’t dream very often, so anytime I do, I know something is going on, something is not being dealt with, and I guess this might be the case. Well, let’s get to it. The dream. In it, I’m back to that party. You know, the party where I met… Don’t make me say it, I’m so tired of this. Ugh… Alright, fine… In this dream I’m back to the party I’ve met Lance. No, actually, it’s not exactly the party, just the house it was hosted. I’m just there, hanging with my friends, doing this and that, whatever, what matters is the strange sense that something important in the house’s been missing. You know, like when you enter a living room and there’s no TV or no couch? It’s unsettling. Funny thing is, they don’t have any of those things there, they are still trying to get some furniture, so the apartment is almost empty. But anyway, the feeling. It’s there, in the dream. And I’m in that living room with no couch, no TV, no nothing besides a lamp and a few stools, and something is missing and it’s not furniture. The physical emptiness of the room is fine, it’s actually endearing, to be on a place my friends are still building as their own, a place that is so damn uncomfortable, but still I wanna be there, because the people are there... So it’s not the physical emptiness, it’s something other, it’s not to look at a corner and see just the corner, it’s not look at the floor and see the tiles, it’s… What I do not see there… And the entire feeling is so alien, because it is as if I’m expecting to encounter something that doesn’t exist. You see where I’m going with this? Yeah. But I’ll spell it out. This is all about talking, after all… And I pay you big bucks to listen, so _tough_.

“I’m talking about my expectations, I think. I’m talking about this make-believe relationship I have already created in my head for Lance and I, this thing that I miss, but does not exist. This thing that isn’t a couch, or a TV, that is not physical, that I cannot buy at Ikea, this – forgive me my eloquence – _thing_ . This fantasy that exists only in my head, and therefore is not enough, doesn’t exist. I’ve been expecting him to be where I go everyday, you know? To meet him on the street, the train station, the stores I go to, the coffee shops, everywhere I look I want to see his face. And I don’t, of course, and I’m left with this lingering feeling of loss, of missing, of yearning for something that I never had. It’s exhausting me. I’ve come to understand quickly that this is not doing me any favors, concerning my mental health, you know? And at the same time I find myself still wondering about him, about _us_ , at least once a day, and to add to that, there’s this other thing: in days I almost forget him, I’m scared I’ll get over it, I’m afraid this very human thing I’m feeling that I am so not used to feel will go away and come back only on the next alignment of the planets. I don’t wanna fall out of love. Even though it hurts me, it bugs me, it itches me and makes me face all my weaknesses, undresses all my vulnerabilities, I don’t want it to go, I don’t wanna lose it. You see, I’m not only attached to the idea I created of him, I’m also in love with the fact that I am in love. I’m in love with what I am learning about myself, with how I deal with all this – not that I have been successful with any of this _dealing_ so far, but you know, – I like the experience of the new experiences. This is why the idea of loss scares me so much, I think. Or at least it’s one of the components of this fear. There’s a lot of new to come along, I don’t wanna give up, I don’t want the feelings to grow cold, I wanna leap and try and see what happens, I wanna act on it, keep the experience new. Is that weird? Maybe even a little selfish? To involve someone on something I’m doing for myself like this… Not that he is actually involved at this point… I wish… But I don’t know, I gave it a lot of thought…

“Selfish is tricky word. Makes you believe anything you do for your own sake is bad, it’s despicable to think about yourself. Meh. I don’t think that’s it. Actually, I find that the most selfless acts are the ones that begin with ourselves. Selfish is more like… Doing something despite of others, you know… Okay, so you see I’ve digressed. Suddenly I’m a moral philosopher. I’m running away from the subject. You’re not supposed to let me...

“Me and him. Lance and I. Lance and Keith. Let’s get back to that. I’m still desperately in love, I still want to know him, learn about him, face him. Just go for a coffee, talk about the weather, even. At this point every scenario I come up with is a romantic one. Last week I fantasized about me having a car accident and him showing up in the middle of the crowd, recognizing me, and calling the ambulance. We marry a few months later. Anyway. The fear. The fear is that this will never happen, but also that it will and it won’t matter. I’m scared that I’ve made him so big in my mind, that now I’m not enough anymore. Because, well, this is new information, because I know where he will be. Okay, that sounded confusing and creepy. I meant, I know how to find him. Crap, that’s worse. Okay, here’s the thing...

“A few days ago, in college, a friend of mine came to me with the exciting news that Lance will be teaching an extracurricular class on our campus, next semester, and if I wanted to, I could easily enroll. Be there everyday, seeing him, having plenty of reasons to interact with him, do all that I’ve been complaining about for the past couple of sessions. But instead, my first reflex was to say no, that I wouldn’t go. Crazy, right? Well, I have a reason. I figured that I don’t wanna be his student, you know? Put myself on that position right from the start. This is not a fanfic, in real life that stuff does not go well. Teacher, student. Power, powerless. That sort of crap. Also this might have to do a little with the fact that I’m all set on extracurriculars, and that a little of sanity still remains in me that I won’t commit my precious time to something as silly as a crush. But he is so pretty. I’d spend the entire class staring at him. Maybe that’s another good reason not to go for it… Well, but this is where I circle back to today’s theme: fear. Am I making a reasonable decision, out of good deliberation, not just because the longer this takes to happen, the more scared I get that if we meet things will just be… Terrible? I can’t tell. I have a back-up plan, sort of. Which is: at least I’ll be close to him on campus, know that he’ll be teaching this class at the same day, same time, every week, so we could meet, run into each other on the halls. Maybe that could work, right? I hope it does, that’s my current – and only – course of action. And as I’ve made clear before, not acting annoys me to death.

“You know, I’ve been whining about this to almost everyone, and I’m impressed that they all still stayed my friends after these few weeks. But the thing that impresses me the most is that nobody seems to be able to let go of the idea that I can just pop on his message page, say hello and start a beautiful, meaningful conversation that will ultimately lead to us picking china patterns. It never works like that, I’m sure. And I’m so sure, that lately I had my theory proved to me. This guy I didn’t even know I had on Facebook had liked my latest status update and decided that was enough to start a conversation with me, and in the name of science, I decided to talk to him, to be nice, answer his questions and help the conversation go along as much as I could, as much as my interest in what he had brought to me would held. It lasted five or six sentences. We had absolutely no reason to talk to each other, except he wanted to, and it just didn’t work. So much so that I was not only the last person to say something, I was also left on read. You see, I tried. And what can I gather from this? What if I do that, what if I go to Lance, start a pointless conversation and he does what the best case scenario predicts – he tries, – and then it doesn’t work? I’m too scared of that, I’m too hopelessly, knees deep in this crush to take such a risky shot. What should I do? I don’t know, you know? Every way seems like a dead end, because every way is an artificial way, it’s man made, it’s handcrafted by me, by my hands, and I’ve found that they are shaky and unreliable as I am now. I lose my confidence in this state, I lose the practice I have on being myself, I lose the few certainties life allowed me, because in every prospect I just… _Lose_.

“I feel like the only path I have is to gamble. Roll the dice, leave everything to chance, I have to blindly believe. Have faith. I’m not a faith guy, you know, I don’t count on luck, on God, on anything but myself, and now I’m deprived of that, it seems.

“I know why you are laughing. Just before I was talking about taking chances, _leaping_ , ha! But I guess this is what was bothering me, right? I know what I have to do, I just refuse to do it, I just give in to second guessing. I’ve cornered myself into taking this leap of faith or staying where I am, dealing with this pathetic status quo that dictates I’m gonna be wailing around about falling in and falling out until it means nothing to me, until it’s just a funny memory of a time I was acting like a schoolgirl. Well, I guess… If you don’t gamble, you don’t win, right? What do you think?”

Keith stood up, ready to leave.

“I think you’ve already decided,” said the psychoanalyst.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was at least a bit entertaining. I feel like a broken record lately. Anyway, god bless Season 6, am I right?

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any advice you'd like to give Keith about this matter, please, do it. I really—I mean, he really needs it.


End file.
